Dear Hollywood,
You really missed the boat on not nominating me for best dramatic performance of the year. I really missed the boat on not realizing what a drama queen I could be. In my defense, yesterday was a hard day. Let's just say it has been a hard week.
But, to get back to the dramatics. Good lord the dramatics. Out for breakfast this morning I had many of those nervous-laugh-cringe-didireallysaythat moments. Breakfast did not want to stay down. Going out for a drive to the ocean seemed like a good idea as well. That is until my mega-dramatic brain took over. Our walk was cut short due to me being convinced that the tide would suddenly come gushing in, washing me and my companion out to sea, to a watery grave. Thus leaving my kats alone and hungry, without my corpse to feast on.
To all of you who listened and didn't laugh, thank you. It is refreshing to know that this dramatic old fool has close friends.
What do I intend to do about this? Well, the remedy is in the movies. I am staying away from swooning women for a while. To watch them is to become them. I am calling on an old friend to bring me back down to the gritty reality I so desire. I have three Errol Morris documentaries in my possession. I promise not to make any drunken phonecalls until I have finished all three.
truly embarrassed,
the recess bandit.
And now to lighten the mood:
5 comments:
damn.giv me a call maybe we can get together and see imaginary funnel clouds together.
that is unless m dramatic self would make your dramatic self more dramatic.
m
you know how much I love drunken phone calls, really I know it's long distance but I can sympathize with the whole swooning women/becoming them problem. miss ya you nut. just so you know I think you pretty much saved my sorry ass around this time a year ago, I'd love a chance to get you back for that sometime.
love
t
Dear M, the clouds do not seem to be around to look at. Unless you are talking about the cloudy funnel of wine pouring out of a bottle into my glass. Sign me up. I need a good drink off. More games!
Dear T, thank you for the invite. I miss the heck out of you. As far as saving my ass, I think your somment is a step in the right direction. And besides, you have already saved it plenty of times. Think a cold, dank basement in Dartmouth. Think me shivering in the corner, begging for you not to kick me out! Think of how loud I am laughing as I re-tell this story.
love right back attcha babe,
goober.
anytime.m.
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